


with honors

by FullmetalChords



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gravedigging, Grief/Mourning, Introspection, M/M, Regrets, i wrote this in like 90 minutes and have Some Regrets, spoilers for ch 17 of verdant wind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 10:33:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20946899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullmetalChords/pseuds/FullmetalChords
Summary: Following the battle at Gronder Field, Claude buries a king.(mega spoilers for chapter 17 of verdant wind, please heed the tags!)





	with honors

Claude goes back into the woods when the battle is over. Once the fog has finally cleared, once the Empire and Kingdom and Alliance forces have all left the fray to lick their wounds and bury the dead they managed to bring back. 

He leaves his friends and professor behind, at their camp. He brings only a standard bow, in case anyone from the Empire or Kingdom comes looking for revenge, and a shovel. 

He has come back to this battlefield, one final time, to bury a king. 

Claude can’t help but think, as he picks his way through the trees to the spot where Hilda had indicated, about the last time the three of them had gathered on this battlefield. An entire lifetime ago, when they’d been students together. When their biggest concerns had been upcoming exams, or skirmishes with bandits, or who fancied who. 

He’s killed some of those classmates, now. Many of them have tried their best to kill him. And now one -- the one that shone brightest of all for Claude, the silver light of the moon in the darkness of Fodlan -- lies dead in a clearing, a dozen Imperial lances skewering his body. 

Claude can’t help but stop in his tracks at the sight of it. _ It, _ he thinks, no longer Dimitri, even if it wears his face, his expression forever twisted in a mask of pain and rage. 

He leans his shovel against a nearby tree as he approaches it, trying to remain rational, trying to remember how to keep breathing. Areadbhar is missing - stolen by Imperial soldiers as a trophy, he thinks bitterly. The lances that took his life have already been removed from Dimitri’s body by someone else -- he thanks the Goddess for this one small mercy. A piece of fabric, dark blue with an orange pattern, has been laid over the former king of Faerghus’s wounds, thankfully hiding them from view. Dedue, Claude thinks, recognizing the scarf from Dimitri’s former vassal. He must have…

Claude swallows hard, kneeling before Dimitri’s body and slowly, gently, reaching out to close his one open eye.

“You couldn’t just have me bury you once, could you,” he says softly. “You had to come back so I could do it again.”

There is no answer, of course. Not even the sound of the wind rustling through the trees. 

Claude should get up. Should finish what he came here to do and get back. Lorenz had seen him leave with the shovel, had called out to stop him before Hilda intervened with a harsh whisper. He has the Alliance to think of, needs to decide what to do with the remnants of Dimitri’s army and the Kingdom of Faerghus. 

But he needs a moment with Dimitri, first.

He reaches out, moving Dimitri’s hair out of his face with one gloved finger. He wishes he had a better memory to leave with. Wishes the last time he’d seen Dimitri hadn’t been with his former classmate raging, wild-eyed, in his rush to get to Edelgard. Wishes his last memory at the academy with him hadn’t been similarly marred by battle, Dimitri so lost in bloodlust he hadn’t seemed to hear Claude’s farewell. 

He has to reach back years in his mind to find the way he wants to remember Dimitri. His mind ends up landing on one particular summer afternoon, before everything had gone sour. They’d been drinking tea, he remembers -- chamomile, both their favorites -- and Dimitri had been laughing at something Claude had said. What it was, Claude can no longer remember -- but he still remembers that laugh, how genuine it had been, how much it had taken him aback. He remembers thinking how handsome Dimitri had been in that moment. 

That Dimitri is gone now, as is the mad king, the blood knight, and all the other Dimitris Claude has known. Claude takes a deep breath, still stroking Dimitri’s hair.

“You idiot.” He feels his voice break. “I must’ve told you a hundred times, didn’t I? Not to go after her alone?”

He has to swallow the lump in his throat, standing back up to grab the shovel. There’s some space between the trees here, among the roots, where he can find space to dig a grave. He isn’t strong enough to bring the body back to camp with him, not after coming here on foot… But he can’t just leave Dimitri out here all alone, either, rotting in the field like another anonymous soldier. 

The earth is soft here, his spade easily breaking the surface, and Claude finds a rhythm before too long, in the digging and unearthing. There’s already a stench of dampness, of decay, before he’s gone too deep, and the scent all but permeates him. Surrounds him, just like death has surrounded him these past five years. 

He goes deeper. Strips off his jacket and pauldron as he does so, the sweat soaking into his clothing from the physical effort. His gloves also come off, noticing as he discards them that his hands are already bloodied from the blisters that have formed and burst as he grips the rough wooden handle of the shovel. It’s fitting, he supposes. He may not have been the one to take Dimitri’s life, but he hadn’t managed to stop Edelgard before she did. 

How much longer must he fight, before this war is finally over? How many more lives must he take? How many more of his precious ones will he lose?

He wants to go _ home _. He still thinks of that time, years ago, when he’d promised to take Dimitri there with him. And the fact that that will never happen now is, of all things, the one thing that finally cracks him. 

Claude buries the shovel, blade first, into the pile of earth beside the grave, leaning heavily on it as he lets himself fall apart.

Just a moment. It’s all he can afford. One moment, to rest with Dimitri beside him one last time, to breathe in the air near him, before he has to force himself to keep moving. Before he has to make himself lay the future he’d once dreamed of to rest. 

He had wanted a life by Dimitri’s side. Perhaps it wouldn't have been a romantic one -- he still has no idea if Dimitri would have ever permitted such a thing, and now he never will -- but one where they could have at least worked together, from opposite sides of Fodlan’s Throat, to destroy the walls between their homelands. How will his dream ever come true now, without Dimitri? Who can he expect to rely on with him gone, with Edelgard mad, with Byleth only recently returned? 

He straightens, drying his face; the sun has moved overhead, the shadows around him lengthening. His chest aches from having cried too hard, too long. The grave is not deep, but it’s large enough for Dimitri’s massive frame, and it’s the best he can do for Dimitri now.

He climbs back out, approaching the body one last time. Claude is filthy, his hands covered in dirt and his own blood. He reaches for Dimitri one last time, regardless. Pulling him close, in a way he’d never been able to in life. 

“Sorry this is all I can give you,” he murmurs to Dimitri. “You should have had a national day of mourning, you know. Blue banners flying, trumpets. Horses, probably.” He sniffles, wiping his nose. “Your friends should have been here, at the very least. Hope you’re not too disappointed that it’s just me.”

He smooths Dimitri’s hair back one last time, trying not to get any of his grime on Dimitri’s face. Then he stands -- staggers to his feet, more like, encumbered by the weight of Dimitri’s body and armor, and starts to drag Dimitri toward the grave he’d dug. He has to pull the body under its arms -- again, he cannot give Dimitri the dignified burial he deserves; again, he is failing the person that he can now admit he loved.

He takes one final moment with Dimitri before lowering him into the grave. Picks Dedue’s scarf up from the ground, tying it gently around Dimitri's gauntlet. Inhales the scent of blood, and dirt, and decay that he must leave here, buried, if he is to complete his work. 

Claude reaches, impulsively, for Dimitri’s hand, squeezing it just once. Dimitri cannot hold his, but. It is something, at least.

“I’ll come back here one day,” he promises, and reaches up to remove his earring. “When the war is over, and I’ve ended what Edelgard started. I’ll build a monument here. I’ll make sure the people remember you.”

He places the earring into the palm of Dimitri’s hand, closing his fingers tight around it.

“Hold onto this for me, Dimitri,” he whispers, and inhales mightily to continue holding his tears at bay. “And have faith. I won’t let this be for nothing.”

He takes one last deep breath before lowering Dimitri into his grave, arranging the last king of Faerghus’s limbs so that he might look more peaceful. Takes one last, long moment to look at Dimitri and let himself think about what might have been.

Then he stands. Inhales. Reaches for the shovel, and buries his regrets.

**Author's Note:**

> Claude later comes back after the war and finds Dimitri's grave covered in tiny forget-me-nots. ;___;
> 
> i'm extremely sorry. come yell at me on twitter @apostaroni


End file.
